by any other name
by Meiran Chang
Summary: AU 6x2: A soldier on leave meets a homeless teen in a holeinthewall nightclub. Story 2: Duo searches for his best friend, drug runner Wufei Chang, and finds him in the most unexpected of circumstances.
1. by any other name

**by any other name**

The boy sitting next to him at the bar had violet eyes.

Were they contacts? Intrigued, Zechs Merquise stole a glance just as the boy turned his head to stare at his empty shot glass. Chestnut hair hung in the boy's eyes, and with an impatient sound, the boy tossed his head back, flipping unruly bangs out of his face. His pale scarred neck was unadorned, set off instead by the ragged collar of his worn black tunic. The boy's hair was nearly as long as Zechs's, bound in a thick braid down his back.

The boy glanced back at Zechs curiously, quick eyes taking his measure. "Yo, stranger. See something you like?"

His voice was rich and low, deeper than Zechs would have expected.

Zechs smiled. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" The boy snorted. "Make up your mind, Blondie. I'm sick of sitting here."

"Then, Bright Eyes," Zechs retorted, rising from his bar stool, "shall we dance?" He offered his hand to the boy.

The boy stared at the hand for a moment, then lifted his gaze to Zechs, his expression clearly indicating his belief that the man he'd just picked up was insane. He hopped off the stool and headed toward the floor. A small, genuine laugh burbled out of Zechs as he followed the boy, only to discover that Bright Eyes was the most amazing amateur dancer he'd ever seen... fast and flexible and so graceful he reminded Zechs of the fighter plane he piloted, the inimitable Tallgeese.

Someone in the gathering crowd tossed the boy glow sticks, and Bright Eyes promptly worked them into his routine. The sticks seemed to leave tracks in the air as they flew through the coruscating light in the boy's efficient hands. The crowd whooped approval, and Bright Eyes laughed.

Then another man pushed his way into the circle. Dark-blonde hair curled on his head like wires. Stocky and solid, Wire Hair's wide-legged stance and sarcastic look indicated a challenge. Barely sparing Bright Eyes a derisive glance, Wire Hair began to move. He was another dancer, but his moves were wilder, more outrageous, and even more exciting to watch.

Bright Eyes laughed again and then he too was moving, only one step behind as he tracked the challenger, perfectly mirroring every move.

By that time they'd nearly attracted half the club. The song, a particularly long techno remix, ended, and the dancers stopped at once. Flushed and sweaty, they gulped the air, staring fiercely at one another. There was respect in the challenger's face, and Bright Eyes was acknowledged with a curt nod before Wire Hair staggered off to the bar.

The circle erupted in cheers, shouts of praise, and invitations for the next song, which had just come on. The boy grinned in acknowledgement, waved at the people, and shouted, "Taken, taken." Then he bellowed, "Blondie! Come get me!"

Zechs, amazed and pleased, recaptured his dance partner. The boy promptly proceeded to do his best to exhaust Zechs, never taking his eyes off the older man. Zechs had to laugh; it would take more than a few dances to wind a soldier of his caliber. A pleased smile rewarded his endurance.

"How old are you?" Zechs asked the boy in the middle of a whirlwind song. He had to shout to be sure the boy could hear him.

"Sixteen," the boy shouted back.

"How'd you get in?"

Bright Eyes was breathless. "That's a trade secret, Blondie!"

Seconds later, a randy song came on and the crowd went batshit. The dance floor became an open-season meat market. Bodies pressed tight all around the pair, and Zechs glanced at the boy. He had absolutely no objection to getting closer to this boy, but…

Bright Eyes took hold of Zechs's wrist, making his decision for him. Firmly, he pulled Zechs off the dance floor.

"Was it something I said?" Zechs asked, bewildered, as the boy dragged him outside and turned to face him.

Bright Eyes tilted his face up, neon lights washing him in blue, not at all daunted by Zechs's height. "I want a room."

Understanding hit like a prizefighter. "Ah." Zechs's smiled echoed the boy's. "Then by all means, follow me."

* * *

The cab ride was short and heated. Bright Eyes was on him like Zechs was his hope for salvation. Zechs, lap full of lust-crazed teenage male, barely had the presence of mind to stumble out of the taxi, leaving a fifty-credit note where he'd only meant to leave a five. At this hour, no one was in the lobby or elevator, which was just as well since Bright Eyes showed no signs of caring and truth be told, Zechs was having a hard time caring, too.

Lucky for Bright Eyes that Zechs was an Army man or the boy's sweet ass would have been dropped on the floor as Zechs fumbled for the key to his flat. It was hard enough with the boy's legs wrapped around his waist and slender arms winding about his neck, but Zechs managed it. He kicked the door shut, but locking it would have to wait, Zechs decided dizzily as he stumbled into the bedroom and threw the boy onto his bed. That rich, low laugh curled up against the spartan walls.

The boy's kisses were hard and fierce. Bright Eyes knew what he was doing and knew what he wanted. His mouth tasted like sweet alcohol, every kiss intoxicating. The boy's hands raked through Zechs's long hair as he licked the older man's neck and trailed kisses up to his lips. A sound of strangled pleasure escaped Zechs's throat as Bright Eyes rocked in his lap.

"Enough," Zechs gasped. The boy lifted his head, sensuous lips parted, and stared at him. "More," Zechs clarified, pulling the boy closer. Only thin fabric separated them from frotting against each other.

This close, Zechs could feel Bright Eyes shiver. "Let's do it," Bright Eyes purred.

"Let me take your hair down."

The boy nodded. Zechs reached behind him and undid the rubber band at the end of the braid, then carefully pulled the strands of the braid apart until the boy's hair was completely loose. Evidently used to this sort of curiosity, Bright Eyes settled back so that Zechs could have a better view.

Though this meant they were no longer pressed against one another, Zechs's lust, if anything, increased painfully. Shining brown hair fell in smooth waves over the boy's shoulders and down his back, long bangs framing his young face just so. The way the moonlight hit him in the dark room made him seem to glow from burning eyes to pale scarred skin. Bright Eyes smiled, if that smug, cynical expression could be called a smile, and pulled off his shirt in one fluid motion.

Zechs rested his hands on the boy's bare shoulders. The heat emanating from the boy's skin was palpable, and as Zechs traced practiced fingers down the boy's arms, he could feel goosebumps rising. "Have you done this before, Bright Eyes?" Zechs asked gently.

"Yes."

Zechs paused. He shouldn't have been surprised; the boy's invitation had been so easy. "With how many?"

Bright Eyes shrugged, nailing Zechs with a warning look different from the coy glances he'd shot him all night. "Don't know. It doesn't matter."

"That seems sad for a boy your age." Zechs didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until the boy snorted.

"I'm not so young. Besides, it helps pass the time."

A thought struck Zechs, and words left his mouth. "Do they pay you?" He nearly bit his tongue clamping down on his traitorous lips before they could spill further words that had not been approved by his brain.

The boy's lips quirked briefly in a cold smile. "No, they do not."

"Do you ask them to?" So much for thinking before he spoke. Zechs could have kicked himself.

"_No_." The boy leaned close to Zechs and murmured, "None of that matters right now, Blondie. Sex first. Socializing later. The truth of the matter is, it's getting cold and I'm pretty fucking hard, so why don't we do something about that?"

"I'd be pleased to be of service. Actually," he said as he pushed the boy down against the bed, "do you have a name?" Long hair spread like silk across the cheap sheets, and for a moment Zechs regretted his thrift. How beautiful Bright Eyes would have looked against the sumptuous bedclothes and luxurious pillows Zechs could have commanded...

For a moment, his lover of the night looked startled at his question, just a flash of surprise in those eyes before he answered. "I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell."

Duo. Well, if there was thing Zechs had learned, it was the importance of a name. Though it wasn't half as descriptive a moniker as Bright Eyes, Duo it was.

"Lovely to meet you, Duo Duo Maxwell. Lift your hips." The boy obeyed at once. No underwear? What a naughty boy. "My name is Zechs Merquise," Zechs murmured, unable to rid himself of the faint, rather predatory smile he knew he wore as he leaned over the boy.

"Just fuck me," Duo sighed, and then Zechs's lips came down hungrily on his, and to both his and Zechs's pleasure, words were no longer necessary.

* * *

Duo had looked startled when Zechs asked him to stay after they were done, but he seemed perfectly content now, held loosely in Zechs's lap and looking out of the window through eyes half lidded by dark lashes. The neon lights outside stretched across the small bedroom's floor and flickered over Duo's face as Zechs ran a hand through the boy's long thick hair.

Duo shifted slightly in Zechs's lap, relaxing even further, resting a head against the other man's bare shoulder with a soft sigh.

"Duo, do you go to the club often?" Zechs asked quietly, loathe to break the silence but genuinely curious.

"I guess," the boy admitted. "It doesn't matter. Like I said. It passes the time."

Zechs touched the cool skin of Duo's face and ran his fingers over the high cheekbones, the inviting lips. "Ever seen me before?"

"Once or twice, maybe."

"What did you think?"

Duo shrugged. "You want me to say anything in particular?"

"No. Be honest."

A considering pause. "Weirdo," Duo said, but though the word was accusatory, there was no malice in his tone.

"I'm told that often," answered Zechs, unoffended.

"I thought you were beautiful," said the boy, answering the earlier question. "Many beautiful men out there, but…"

"But?"

"Okay, this is stupid, but I liked your hair." Duo tentatively gathered a hank of white-blonde hair in his hands, twirling it absently around a finger. Zechs could see the boy's reflection in the window glass, and for a moment there was wonder in Duo's face. "Not many men have hair as long as mine. I admire those who do."

There was a long pause. Zechs thought Duo had dropped the subject before he added, almost inaudibly, "I liked your eyes. They were… kind. You seemed decent."

The boy's voice was faintly disbelieving, as though decency were a foreign concept. How little kindness had this strange boy known in his short life? Zechs wondered, making a sound of encouragement.

"Your eyes are a pretty shade of blue, you know that?" Duo said quietly. "Like an ocean. Not that I've seen one. But when I think of one, it's clear, and honest, and clean."

"That's lovely," Zechs whispered, touched. He kissed the boy's forehead. "Duo, thank you."

Duo shrugged in embarrassment.

Zechs tightened his arms around the slight boy, smoothing shaggy bangs out of the bright eyes that had first entranced him. "So why were you there tonight?" he asked.

"Because I felt like it. What is this, Blondie, an interrogation? What do you care?" Duo turned in the circle of Zechs's arms to pin the older man with a demanding look -- not quite a glare, though it came close. Zechs did his honorable best to ignore the jolt of electricity the touch of groin to groin sent through him, for that was clearly not Duo's intention.

"You interest me, Duo. Is that a crime?" Zechs replied. He reached up to touch the boy's face again, keeping one arm around that slender waist. It seemed more intimate somehow to touch Duo's face, despite what they'd finished. "I find you beautiful beyond compare. And all these scars," Zechs said, touching lightly on one that sliced down the boy's neck to cleave his left collarbone in two. "Each tells a story."

"Don't touch me there." Duo shook off Zechs's hand, but not before Zechs felt him shiver. "We fucked, that's it. My life isn't your bedtime story. _Blondie_." This time the tone _was_ accusatory.

"Did I suggest it was?" Zechs countered. His voice softened. "Hasn't anyone ever asked you before?"

Duo was silent for a long moment after that. Zechs felt Duo's muscles tense as the boy sucked on his lower lip without looking at him. Zechs had begun to fear that the boy was about to get up and leave, presence requested or not, when the boy finally met Zechs's eyes again.

"It's not like there's a lot to tell," Duo said abruptly. "My mom had me when she was fourteen. I never met my dad, but my mom's family kicked her out, so she was stuck with me for company." He snorted. "I guess I should thank her for keeping my sorry ass alive, but I'd hafta find the morgue for that. She died of AIDS when I was six."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Duo said sharply. "I've been there. Sorry ain't worth shit. It won't move your feet. Won't get you food when you're hungry or a blanket when you're cold. Definitely won't get you a place to stay."

"Where _do_ you stay?" Zechs wondered aloud.

"Varies." Duo's tone was becoming distinctly unfriendly. "I get by."

"What about when you're sick?"

"I'm never sick."

Zechs's fascination increased with every word Duo spoke. Zechs could remember, long ago, wandering the streets of a bombed-out city, deaf from the explosions, arm broken from when he'd fallen, running hard as tongues of fire licked at his feet... could remember protesting, 'I'm all right, I'm all right,' seconds before the world turned black.

"Don't you ever wish for anything more?"

There was no answer. This time, Zechs really did bite his tongue, far too late. "Never mind. I apologize. Stupid question."

"I wish instead of pray, every night before I sleep." The boy's voice was tight with emotion. "If only my dad had loved my mom. If only she hadn't been such a stupid fucking whore! If only I didn't take after her, hah, if only I could erase the past six years of my life. Erase myself!"

Narrow hands clenched, and Duo stared at his pale fists as if he didn't recognize them. "I hate living like I do. I hate it! The homeless shelter -- it's -- you don't understand, you can't unless you've been there. It has no _dignity_." Duo's voice broke on the word.

"I've done bad things." He looked up at Zechs as if he defied the man to speak and contradict him. "Terrible things. And all this? The club, men, drinks and drugs and dances -- fuck, man, I just don't wanna think anymore. I wanna burn out like those wishing stars do.

"I miss things I've never had. I'm so sick and tired of all the bullshit, but that's it. That's all I've got." Duo's eyes shone with anguish, but the boy didn't cry, though Zechs almost wanted to. "Do I fucking wish for something else. The fuck do you think, Zechs Merquise?"

"Duo," Zechs breathed, holding the shaking boy close as he turned his face into Zechs's shoulder again. Zechs let go only for a second to pull the blanket over them both. The tale of a boy who'd lost his world and wandered hopeless ever since; oh, how Zechs knew that story. The astringent scent of burning bodies stung his nose and set his eyes to watering. There were no words. "Duo."

"Guess what?" Duo whispered. Zechs could feel the boy's warm breath against his skin. "You're the only man who's ever asked about me. Who's ever just fucking sat down and listened."

"Listen, Duo…"

"Fucking pathetic."

Zechs pulled back just a little bit and forced the boy to look up. "Stop," he said evenly. "You're human. You suffer and hurt and bleed just like everyone else. You are not the only person who has ever suffered." Images flashed through his mind: a kingdom in flames, a little girl with wheat-blonde hair sprawled and bloody on concrete, a teddy bear covered in flakes of falling snow. "You are not the only person without a home," and Zechs wondered if the boy could hear the waver in his voice.

"Well fuck them." Duo's voice was hard. "Why should I care? God knows they don't give a shit for me. The ones who ever did are dead."

"I'm not."

"Fuck you too. I don't know you." But the despair and anger had drained from Duo's voice, leaving it flat and tired.

"Would you like to?"

Duo raised his head so quickly Zechs heard the boy's neck crack. Violet eyes speared him with a look both sharply suspicious and desperately hopeful. "The fuck you talking about, Blondie?"

"You can stay," Zechs clarified. To his surprise, he could feel himself smile, a small shy smile few people ever saw. "If you so desire."

"Till when?" Duo pressed. But the hope in his eyes outshone the suspicion, raw and bright and searing.

"Until you want to leave."

That hope was something terrible. "_Why_?"

There was an easy question. "Because I would be honored."

"You are out of your goddamn bugfucking mind," Duo stated, but for the first time that night, Zechs saw him grin, and for the fierce breathtaking beauty of it, Zechs would have promised anything.

"So?" Zechs prompted, an answering grin slipping onto his face despite himself.

"Fuck you, Zechs Merquise," Duo replied fervently. "Hell _yeah_! Let's ride into the fucking _sunset_!"

"More like sunrise," Zechs said with a small laugh. Dawn was lighting up the city, and pale rays filtered through the window as Zechs tilted Duo's face towards his for a kiss.


	2. Nataku

**nataku**

Duo tugged the hood of Zechs's bomber jacket up over his head. The coyote fur edging the hood tickled his cheeks, but he was glad for the warmth, even if the oversized jacket _did_ make him look like a little boy dressing in his daddy's clothes. A pair of aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes from the worst of the snow glare and chill winter sun. The jeans he was wearing -- also Zechs's -- were far too long and damp up to his ankles besides, but the thick warm socks Zechs had bought for him kept his feet warm inside large borrowed snow boots.

Nobody recognized him. Duo hid a grin in his knitted brown scarf. It was nice to be wandering this deep downtown without worrying about finding a good place to sleep or debating whether to beg or turn a trick. Not that he'd choose to wander downside without good reason, or past nightfall -- not dressed like this. He was here for a reason, and the smile faded from his lips as he remembered it.

He couldn't find Wufei.

He'd met the drug runner about a year ago. One night, Duo had been injured, stabbed in the gut by a john who was a lot more into knife-play than his soft exterior would suggest, and the morning found Duo bleeding into shock. (Duo still remembered the feeling of the cold that came over him -- not the sharp crisp pain of winter wind, but a strange, sucking coldness that blurred his sight.) The gray dawn came and went, and Duo passed out in an alleyway. He woke up in a warm bed, his gut wound washed and inexpertly stitched, with a young Chinese man reading in a chair by his side.

Chang Wufei, who had sutured Duo's bloody wound with his own hands, whose mysterious teas kept the killing fever back.

While it wasn't unusual for drug runners to disappear, Wufei was a conservative guy who tended to take the safest jobs available. "Safe" was a relative term, of course, but Wufei's young wife was in her third trimester and expecting their first, so Wufei wasn't taking any more chances than he had to. His boss, Master O, was a good man, and the last time Duo'd seen Wufei, the Chinese man was doing well. So what the fuck?

Turning the corner of Lon Street brought him to the front of Wufei's apartment building. Duo stopped, staring up at the tall, rickety old thing. In a neighborhood that wasn't so needy, the tenement would have been turned into a museum, but downtown Lagrange couldn't afford to sentimentalize its past. Currently, 51 Lon Street housed nothing more memorable than the poorest of whores and immigrants. Duo pushed open the door to the lobby and buzzed Wufei's apartment.

There was a long silence, and Duo shifted uncertainly from foot to foot, lighting up a cigarette. Just when Duo was about to leave and search elsewhere, a voice crackled through the intercom. "Who the fuck is this?" came Wufei's flat voice.

"Wufei!" Insensibly relieved, Duo tried to crawl through the speaker. "It's me, Duo! Let me in! I've got some really great news. Jesus, I've been looking for you all over the place! Would it have killed you to tell someone where you were?"

Duo's answer was the blat that passed for a buzzer in this building, and Duo trundled into the lobby, removing his sunglasses and folding them in his pocket. The building's lobby was as dirty and unpreposessing as its facade, the ceiling low, brick columns squat and covered in graffitti and flyers. Old stains discolored the faded checkerboard tiles, and Duo stepped gingerly around a puddle to hit one of the elevator buttons. He wondered if the landlord had fixed the other elevator yet, although casting a glance at the warped doors gave him his conclusion well enough.

Duo waited a few minutes, then decided the elevator either wasn't coming, or was creaking down so slow that waiting wasn't worth it. He plunged towards the stairwell. He usually avoided the stairs because they smelled like piss and vomit, but Wufei had sounded strange on the intercom, and Duo's patience was not exactly bounteous. Cigarette smoke left diaphanous trails behind him as he climbed to the seventh floor, nodding amiably at some familiar faces he passed on the way.

He emerged on the seventh floor panting and flushed. Duo had smoked since he was eleven, and times like these, he had reason to curse his habit. Apartment 7E's door looked like it had been through some rough times recently, Duo noted with unease, pounding on the door with a fist (the doorbell never worked). Wufei yanked the door open, and Duo damn near dropped his cigarette.

Wufei looked like he hadn't slept in days. Dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes. Those eyes, usually so shrewd and bright, had dulled. Stress lines creased his young face. His lips were pinched thin with what looked suspiciously like pain as he stepped out of the way so Duo could come in.

"What the hell, Wu?" Duo entered the apartment and looked around, startled by the mess, as Wufei shut the door. Meiran was not the most domestic of individuals, so it fell to Wufei to keep it clean, a task Duo felt Wufei enjoyed far more than a guy should. "Where've you _been_? What the fuck's the matter with you?" He turned and faced his friend accusingly. "You look like hell!"

"Put out the fucking cigarette," Wufei said tiredly, scrubbing a hand across his eyes as he sagged against the wall. "You know that's a disgusting habit."

"Ch'. You know I only do it for Meiran's sake." Duo put his cigarette out and held the dead thing loosely in his fingers as he made his way down the hall. "Where is she, anyway? Or -- no, don't tell me!" Duo's jaw dropped as he whirled to face Wufei. "She's having the baby _now_?"

Even from this distance, Duo could see the apple of Wufei's throat throb as he swallowed. "No," Wufei said thickly. Tears glistened down the Chinese man's cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Meiran is dead," he whispered. His face crumpled and he slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands.

Duo knelt by his side in an instant. "No," he breathed. "No fucking way. Wufei -- when -- how -- _why_?"

Wufei was crying. "My fault," he choked out. "My fault. I had to leave -- mission -- had to leave her alone, no help for it, and she said go, I'm fine, I can take care of myself, and I left. I came back and -- she was already dead, Duo. I'm not a fucking doctor but I know enough, it was obvious -- _some_ son of a bitch and I _will_ find whoever it was if it fucking _kills_ me -- someone beat the door in and -- beat her, _raped _her, Duo, I could _see_ -- she was dead. I was too late. Right there in the living room. Right there. And I couldn't, I wasn't, I couldn't --"

"When _was _this?" Duo demanded.

"A week ago." Wufei raised his face to meet Duo's worried gaze, and Duo's heart broke at the anguish in his friend's swollen eyes. "I couldn't report it, of course." His laugh was hollow as the belly of a starving man. "Shirin helped me cremate the body. Both bodies. Meiran was days away from giving birth, it was easy enough to excise the... the fetus. I saw my daughter... The ashes are on my nightstand."

"And you've been here ever since."

Wufei nodded miserably, hiccuping, and Duo stood up, feeling helpless and stupid. "I'm gonna get you some water," he said. "And some aspirin, you got any?"

Wufei shook his head, and Duo walked to the kitchen, his footsteps slow and heavy. Meiran, dead? A year younger than her husband, Meiran had turned fifteen early in her pregnancy. The short, feisty martial artist had glowed with serenity and pride. The poor clothes draping her tight round belly might as well have been vestal robes the way the young woman carried herself. And Wufei had been quietly overjoyed.

Christ. Meiran, dead. Duo's hands trembled as he tossed his dead cigarette into a festering pile of trash in the corner and opened the refrigerator. Before an accident lamed her, Meiran had been something of a celebrity in the world of kung fu, a prodigy rising in the ranks like a bullet. But she fell quickly into obscurity after her injury, and her family married her off to the man she'd been promised to since birth. Just as obstreperous and stubborn as Wufei, Meiran didn't make the match easy. But in spite of themselves, they went and fell in love. Wufei wasn't the type to make a show about it, but he was devoted to his fierce wife.

Not _was_, Duo corrected himself. _Had been_. Duo cursed as water ran over the top of the glass and down the sides, splashing onto the counter and kitchen floor. Fuck, he thought as he brought the glass to Wufei, he'd been right the first time. Death would not stop Wufei's devotion.

Wufei drank gratefully, hiccups tailing off. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Yeah, no problem." Crouched next to Wufei, Duo remembered what he'd wanted to say, but shrank from saying it.

"So what made you track me down?" Wufei's eyes were on him as if tears weren't still shining on his cheeks. "You said you had good news. I could use some."

"Well, it's..." Duo hesitated, staring at a patch of dirt on the tile below him. "I feel weird saying it now. Wufei, I'm so --"

"Tell me." The angle of Wufei's chin was proud despite the pain written on his face, and Duo could not disrespect such strength.

"It's just that I found a place to stay," Duo mumbled. Meiran, dead. It still didn't ring true. "With a really nice guy this time. And I mean it, he's decent, and he's a soldier, so he's got all kinds of hook-ups. More than enough to support me." The silence was wretched, so he added lamely, "He bought me socks."

"Good socks?"

Duo nodded. "I'm wearing them now. They're warm. Wanna see?"

"No thanks." A bit of the old wryness was in Wufei's tone. He splashed the rest of the water onto his hands and flung it onto his face. "Thanks for coming, Duo. It was the end of the world in here."

"So why didn't you leave?"

"Couldn't. Not with Meiran's ghost unquiet. Man, I haven't been able to use the living room for a week." Wufei tried to laugh, and though he failed, the attempt was a good one.

Duo rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "I don't believe it," he mumbled. "I don't fucking believe it."

"It was my fault." Duo looked over at Wufei, who was staring unwavering at the opposite wall with the glitter of tears in his eyes again. "It was my fault," Wufei repeated, glancing at him as if to gauge his reaction. "I should not have left her alone. She was too young. She should not have had the child to begin with, not yet. We should have waited until we were more settled. I should have stopped the missions completely. But we were so close and she agreed with me, we needed the money, she told me I shouldn't stop and ancestors help me but I agreed..." He pressed long fingers to his temples. "After our clan died, we were its only hope. That was why we started right away. Now I am punished for my foolishness. Now I am the last of the Dragon Clan, and gods know but it will die with me."

"Yeah, well," Duo said unexpectedly, "I'm the last Maxwell, remember?" He slung an arm around Wufei's shoulder. The other man flinched, but allowed the touch and did not protest when Duo pulled him into a hug. "See," Duo whispered, "we're both survivors, okay? The dead are dead, Wufei. You mourn and you move on. You _got _to learn to move on. Stillness is death. I know it hurts, Wu. I know. But listen." Duo pulled away slightly and held Wufei's face firmly in his hands. There was a flicker of curiosity in Wufei's eyes. "You need a place to stay," Duo stated. "Not here with the, what was it, ghost of your wife all unquiet. That ain't healthy. You come with me."

Wufei gently freed himself from Duo's grip. "Duo," he said, "I really don't think your army paramour will be thrilled at the prospect of a freeloader from a rebel clan living in his apartment."

Duo dismissed the concern with an impatient wave of his hand. "Whatever. He's cool, trust me. He doesn't have to know who you are, anyway. I mean, it ain't gonna be permanent but it should be long enough to get you back on your feet, yeah? Maybe he can help you find something."

Wufei rubbed his temples as if to ward off an incipient headache. "Duo, I truly appreciate the sentiment behind your offer. But my pride will not allow me to --"

"Fuck your pride, your pride won't feed you or pay your bills. Please," Duo pleaded. "Let me help you, Wufei, the way you helped me. You brought me back to life. The least I can do is return the favor." Wufei looked unconvinced. "Wu_fei_," Duo wheedled, "I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least try to help my best friend. Work with me here. It doesn't need to be for very long. Just a place to rest your feet, man."

"Fine." Wufei looked far from thrilled at the prospect, as if only politeness had him accepting Duo's offer. "Okay. But I will _not_ ask a soldier of the Federation for help. Not with a job, and not with finding Meiran's killer. I will find these things on my own. If I have nothing left, I still have my dignity."

"I lost that long ago," Duo observed rather sadly.

Wufei shot him a sharp look. "I don't think so, Maxwell. I really don't." He got to his feet, and Duo followed suit.

"What are you going to do with the ashes?" Duo said hesitantly, brushing off the seat of his pants.

"I don't know." For a moment Duo was aware of how small Wufei was, standing there. Wufei had such a strong personality one didn't even notice the scholar's height (or lack thereof), but there in the hallway it was for a moment apparent. "I want to..." Wufei paused, doubtless searching for the right words. With a vocabulary like his, such a search could and often did take a few minutes. "I want to take them to China. There was a field of flowers..." Self-consciously, the Chinese man stuck his hands in his jeans, staring at the floor. "But China is under enemy control, I would not pass a background check, and I have no money besides. I will bring the ashes with me."

"Will it, um," Duo glanced sideways at the beaded curtain in the living room doorway, "bring her ghost with you? Cos I mean, if it does, that's okay, I just want to know, cos I already got a lotta ghosts on my shoulders."

"I don't know." A curious smile tugged at Wufei's lips, sad and tired. "You know what we were going to name our little girl?"

Duo made an encouraging noise in his throat.

"Nataku."


End file.
